Tuning Heartstrings

It had only been a day since her small gathering with Harry, but it felt like it had been much longer than that for some reason or another. She figured that since she was still not seeing her neighbor, the days were just blending together and making it hard to differentiate the actual time that had gone by.

What had once started off as a productive Wednesday was turning into a bit of a lazy one as Billie dragged herself into her flat's living room around late evening, falling upon the sofa and relaxing into the plush cushions. She kicked off her shoes onto the off-white carpet flooring and felt her dark brown tresses relax as she pulled out her hair tie that kept them in place.

However, as a soft sigh escaped her lips, she jumped in surprise as a vibration from her back jean pocket went off, alerting her off a newly received text. Unlocking her smartphone and checking who sent it, she read what Ashley had typed out.



She felt the energy drain out of her as if she had already gone clubbing and come back. Who goes clubbing on a Wednesday anyways? She thought. Nonetheless, she resisted the urge to text Ashley back and say that she couldn't make it with some lame excuse about studying for an imaginary exam. While Kristy wasn't someone that Billie hung out with or knew all that well – she was more of Ashley's longtime friend from primary school, she had still invited Billie with a warm smile and good intentions knowing that she didn't have all that many friends in Bradford yet.



As soon as the text was sent, she was out like a light, deciding to take a nap to prepare herself for the night ahead of her. Unfortunately, her sleep wasn't a deep one, and a while later, a loud bang woke her up from her light slumber.

“What the hell...?” Billie mumbled as she jolted awake, looking around for what might have caused such a ruckus.

The murmuring of a familiar voice from outside her flat was something that snapped her to attention though. “Goddammit, the fucking door slammed...”

“Zayn?” She questioned, rolling off the couch and heading towards the door to confirm her suspicions.

As she slowly cracked open the door and poked her head out, she could see his figure hustling towards the elevators and soon disappearing behind the corner that led to them. That recognizable form that she so briefly saw caused for her stomach to knot itself for reasons even she didn't quite understand. It was only Zayn – even she knew that, but being able to see him with her own two eyes after so long felt strange, and seeing him leave made her felt nervous in the pit of her stomach. Part of her thought if he left, she wouldn't see him again and that would mean that Mrs. Fields and Harry would be more concerned.

Billie stepped out of her flat and closed the door behind herself, heading down the hallway and after Zayn with haste. If she could just talk to him, get a glimpse of his face, or maybe even throw an insult or two at one another, that would make her feel better about not having seen him.

“Zayn?” She called out.

“Um, no, Ashley,” her friend replied, stepping out from the elevator as the doors slid open. “Why are you talking about Zayn?”

Billie's eyes casually glanced over to the other elevator's small numerical display, the numbers counting down from four to the first floor, and she hid a sigh when she realized that she was too late to reach her neighbor. “No reason,” she finally replied. “Are we going to get ready for tonight now?”

“Yeah, it's been three hours since I texted you about coming over!”

“Oh, sorry, I just woke up from a nap right now.” Billie confessed.

Ashley shrugged her shoulders, her brown locks of hair swaying lightly while her hazel eyes appeared clear and bright, the young woman dismissing the matter as she and Billie started walking towards her apartment. “Tonight's going to be fun. It's your first time going to a club here, isn't it?”

“More like my first time ever,” she revealed.

“Ooh! Then we've got to have a lot of fun tonight! Trust me, you'll never forget tonight.”

“For some reason, when you say it, it doesn't sound like it'll be for a good reason,” Billie teased.

“Oh, shut your gob!” Ashley hit her with her make-up bag lightly. “Now c'mon, we've got to get started before it gets any later.”

As the girls stepped inside the flat, a small metamorphosis of sorts took place. While Ashley got to work on herself, applying numerous different beauty products onto her smooth light skin, Billie decided to hop into the shower for a quick rinse to wake up. Once that was sorted and she was in her dress for the night – a black dress with a small plunging neckline and a few straps on the shoulders, Ashley insisted upon doing her make-up as well and gave no room for debate when she started to work on her hair as well.

As the heat radiating off of Billie's dissipated, Ashley sprayed some product into her locks to help keep their new form, and when she finished her work, she asked for Billie's opinion. The brunette then stood from the chair she sat in and walked into the bathroom to appraise her new appearance. Her make-up was a smokey eye, with bits of golden glitter placed on her bottom lid, her dress hugged her body nicely and in a very complimenting way, and her hair that hung down her shoulders was curled loosely, some of her ringlets still bouncing with life from her walk to the bathroom.

“I have to say, I'm pretty good.” Ashley joked, entering the restroom to give her look a final check and to fix a few stray strands.

“I have to agree with you for once.”

“I'm going to ignore that.”

Ashley soon began to pack up her things, and when everything was put away, both she and Billie made their exits to head to Ashley's car and to then make it to the nightclub. Parking was an easy find as they parked a few blocks down from the club, and as they made their way up the streets, they could already hear the music and slight vibrations from the bass.

“Ash! Billie!” A voice cried out, and the two girls saw the other members of the party gathered at the front of the line. They met them and gave each of the girls a hug and wished Kristy a happy birthday while they did.

“I'm so glad that you could make it, Billie,” Kristy gushed.

“Thanks for inviting me, Kristy,” Billie replied with a smile. “Happy birthday!”

“Thank you!” Kristy then turned to Ashley and excitedly grabbed her hands, squeezing them tightly as she whispered, “You'll never guess who we saw walk in a little while ago while we waited in line!”

“Who? Someone from class?”

“No way! Zayn Malik!”

“What?” Ashley gasped, taking a quick glance at Billie who was now also all ears. “Really? When did this happen?”

“Maybe an hour ago or so! If we're lucky, he might still be in there!”

Billie stared at the entrance doors that were only a few feet away. Was he really in there? Was she finally going to bump into him again? A nervous knot was formed in the pit of her stomach and she could only bit her bottom lip a bit anxiously. Billie wasn't given much time to brood over the possibility of bumping into her neighbor though – the bouncer letting them into the establishment within minutes – and soon they were being ushered by the velvet red rope and into the booming club, Envy.

Music blasted from speakers all around them, while bodies pushed past one another to head to the bar or the dance floor. The group of girls seemed to disperse, or rather Billie managed to lose them in the crowd that enveloped them. She was completely lost in a sea of beings, and she could only move forwards along with the waves of other bodies.

As an opening appeared, she pushed towards it, and soon she escaped the horde of people and was left standing against a wall near the restrooms. Taking out her phone, she decided to send a small message to Ashley, and as she went through her phone's contacts, she passed his newly entered phone number, and she decided to send him a text as well.



Surprisingly enough, she received a response right after sending a text to Ashley about where she was.



As soon as she put away her phone, she was found by Ashley after having received her text. The girls in their group were soon dancing in the middle of the club, enjoying their night and the company of other club-goers. Billie soon was getting worn out by the dancing and her high heels, and decided to take a break at the bar near the front, her feet screaming at her to sit down at an available bar stool if there were any left.

Thankfully, there was one left available and she sat down upon it quickly. The bartender came up to her and she ordered a water, not wanting to drink when she was dehydrated from dancing. When she was feeling better, she swiveled around on the stool to look over the crowd that was still dancing to the lively beat.

Someone on the stool next to her rose from the seat, but it was soon taken again by another newcomer in a black leather jacket, the man ordering a drink and slamming it down, his back to her. Billie looked him over a bit and when he turned in his seat, her stomach fell to the soles of her feet.

“Zayn?”

The body jumped in surprise, the lad turning to see who had called him, slurring out, “Billie?”

The two stared at one another for a few seconds, realizing that they were finally meeting again after weeks of not seeing each other. Billie didn't have to look at him for long to realize that he was already far gone. His eyes were glazed over and held a dazed gleam in their eyes, and there was also the odor of the alcohol that lingered in his breath as he spoke her name.

As she went to go and make small talk, a man around her age walked up to Billie and smiled as charmingly as a drunkard could. “Hello love, can I buy you a drink?”

“No, thanks, I'm fine.”

“I insist,” he replied, “she'll have a screaming orgasm.” He looked at her eerily while he spoke the drink name to the bartender, who began to mix liquors together at the drop of a hat.

Zayn was silently looking at the situation unfold, his mind still in an alcoholic haze and trying to make sense of what was going on. No matter how dazed he was though, the uncomfortable expression on Billie's face was crystal clear and completely visible.

“Hey man,” he slurred, patting him on the shoulder to get his attention, “the girl doesn't want the drink. Leave her alone.”

“C'mon man, piss off. If she ain't with you, then mind your own damn business.” He took the now ready drink and handed it to Billie who accepted it reluctantly. “Here you go, babe. Just for you.”

“I really can't accept this—”

“It's fine, babe, just a little drink.” He tried to coax her into a sip.

“No, I don't want it. Thanks, but no thanks.”

“It's just a drink!” He insisted.

“I'm sorry, but no.”

“At least dance with me then.”

Yanking her arm, she yelped in shock and slight pain as he pulled her off the chair and sent her stumbling onto the floor. “Hey, leave me alone! I'm not going to dance with you either!”

“C'mon bitch, I bought you a fucking drink, just shut up and dance with me!” He growled, still trying to drag her onto the dance floor as she did her best to pull away.

Zayn's fingers wrapped around the cocktail glass and sent its contents flying onto the douchebag who was trying to force Billie away, his clothes dampened by the potent vodka and cream drink. The guy let go of Billie's arm instantly and she fell onto the floor as his hands went to his clothes to examine the damage that was done. As Billie quickly got herself to her feet, she scrambled over to Zayn's side, and he took a step forward to make sure she was behind him, although with his senses being affected by the alcohol he had already consumed, he was only hoping that he wouldn't do something stupid.

Zayn placed the glass onto the bar, the glass clinking delicately as the two men faced one another with hardened eyes. “Leave the girl alone, asshat. She doesn't want to go with you.”

He scoffed loudly, the guy glaring at both Zayn and Billie as he walked a bit closer to intimidate them. “Well if she's going to be such a fucking prude about it, she probably wouldn't be a good lay anyways.” Seeming content with his retort, he turned around to leave them be and find another bird to get lucky with.

Zayn looked to Billie who was growing more uncomfortable by the second, the poor girl breathing heavily and anxiously as she watched the man begin to set off, her brown eyes looking misty and clouded. He took a few steps forward and got the guy by his shoulder, spinning him around and returning smugly, “Hate to disappoint, you cock-up, but I'm pretty sure that screaming orgasm would have been her only one of the night.”

Without hesitation, Zayn threw a sloppy punch at the man. While it had been poorly executed, there was still enough strength to send the asshole stumbling back, but it didn't keep him down for long, the man charging him and ramming him into the bar.

“Stop! Stop!” Billie screamed as she began to try to peel that jackass away from Zayn, the club-goers around them stopping to see what the fuss was about. “Get off him, you asshole!”

“Fuck off, bitch!” He screamed, shoving her onto the ground with a hard bang, and all she could do was stare in a daze at the unfolding scene before them all.

She snapped herself out of her shock and got out her phone, her gut telling her it was the right thing to do as she shakily pulled up Harry's contact info. The phone dialed for a few seconds before a breezy British accent could be heard from the other side. “Hello, Billie. What can I do for you?”

“Zayn's in a fight with another guy! They're beating the shit out of each other!” She screamed, gasping into the receiver as she saw the drunkard punch Zayn and send him to the floor. “Zayn!”

The people around the group seemed to have heard the name, murmurs being spread around them like a disease as they tried to eye up the boy who was just sent to the ground. When his face could be seen as he went to return the favor to the other guy, people went into a frenzy as they witnessed the already wrecked Zayn go nuts on the other guy, whipping out their smartphones and beginning to record the brawl in hopes of earning some extra cash from some low-life paparazzi.

“Billie?” Harry shouted. “Billie!”

She seemed to recall that she was on the phone with Harry and shook her head to look away from the other people around them who were now recording eagerly. “Y-yes?”

“I'm on my way. It's Envy, right?”

“Yeah, it's Envy!”

“Okay, I'll be there as fast as I can.” The line went dead as a hasty Harry hung up.

She rose to her feet and brushed off her dress, making sure it was fine and not indecent looking as she readied herself to try and stop the boys once more. Thankfully, the manager had finally arrived and helped, along with an extra staff member that held the other man back while Billie wrapped her arms around Zayn's back protectively.

“The lot of you tossers, get out of my club! Immediately!” The manager shouted, some security arriving to escort them out of the building. The man had to be held back as he fought against everyone's hold, the security dragging him off first before Zayn and Billie were led to the front of the establishment.

As they walked out, they could see the bouncers sending off the other male and see the icy, yet heated glare that he sent at them both. Billie led Zayn a few buildings down in the opposite direction and set him down upon the curb, taking a good look at his face for the first time.

He was going to have a few bruises – that was for sure. He had a busted bottom lip, a small, but noticeable rip in the skin above his right eyebrow, and his left cheek, which had a few small splatters of blood from the punches, was beginning to swell up like nothing she had seen before.

“Are you okay?” She asked softly, her voice quivering from everything that had just transpired. She was really trying to not break down at the moment. She had never thought going to her first club would end up in a bar fight.

“No,” Zayn responded solemnly. “Fuck, my fucking head hurts.” He groaned, soon trying to rise up from the sidewalk.

“No, no, no,” Billie ordered, “stay down. What's wrong? Why do you need to get up?”

“I'm gonna vom,” he whispered, getting up quickly and staggering towards a small alleyway, hurling into the first open trash bin he could get to.

Billie winced and shook her head, but didn't do anything to stop him, instead she stood by his side and rubbed his back soothingly while she tried to keep her eyes peeled for any sign of Harry. Then she couldn't help but think about what might happen. Would Zayn be pissed or grateful for her calling his ex-bandmate? After speaking with Harry the day before, she knew that the boys hadn't spoken with one another for quite some time, and she was wondering if this might stress Zayn out more and possibly make him more destructive.

There was no real time to brood over it though as she felt Zayn stumble beneath her touch, the boy falling to his knees and blacking out. “Oh, shit!” She cried, hastily propping him upright from the floor and against the trash can as gently as possible.

Harry, where are you? She questioned hopelessly, looking around for any sign of her absent savior.

What she saw was something dreadful though – the exact opposite of what she needed or wanted at the moment. A man with a camera that hung loosely upon his neck headed up towards the club, snapping pictures of the establishment and talking with a few people in line while he seemed to record the conversations on his phone. She looked away from the man and cursed to herself about how everything was going to shit. She knew someone who had seen them being thrown out would say something for a little extra money, and as she looked back, she saw the photog looking right back at her as someone pointed directly at them.

“Oh, fuck,” she muttered, quickly kneeling down and hurriedly getting Zayn's jacket off of him and placing it atop his head in an attempt to conceal him from the press.

The rushing footsteps of the paparazzo could be heard making their way down the street towards them, and she quickly did her best to place her hair on either side of her face to act as a divider from the lens that stared them down. Billie's forehead met the top of Zayn's, further shielding him from the press.

“Zayn Malik!” The photog shouted, smirking when he noticed the ex-star's body not moving an inch as he called his name. “Passed out, is he?” The man questioned Billie expectantly. “And who would you be, love? A groupie of his?”

She bit her tongue and yelled at herself to not tell him to fuck off. Even she knew that they would use anything and everything against her to get a juicy story about Zayn.

“How about this, eh? You let me in about what happened at the club, and I'll tell them you were just some bird and you can keep yourself out of the news.” At her lack of a response, he sweetened the deal, flashing out quite a bit of quid from his pocket, “Or is it money you want?”

In a moment's notice, it appeared word about Zayn Malik's bar fight spread like wildfire across social media, more paparazzi making their way upon the scene every few minutes till the lot of them were snapping away photos in the alleyway, bathing them in a blinding, luminescent light.

Tears began to form in her eyes as the situation was beginning to get to her. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs and tell them to go screw themselves, shove the lens of their cameras right up their asses, and simply forget tonight had even happened. Just as she took in a deep breath to get ready to snap at the hounding photographers that were now growing noisier, she jumped in fright when she felt something land on top of her, not knowing what it was still a fragrant scent of cologne greeted her nose and she noticed it was a leather jacket that was protecting her from their cameras.

“Alright, nothing to see here, guys! Leave 'em alone!” Harry's voice caused for Billie to release that firm wall she was putting up, and she could feel a tear or two roll down her cheeks and she quickly brushed it away, telling herself now still wasn't the time for her to relax.

Hands reached around her shoulders and gently brought her to her feet, Billie's shaking legs working overtime to keep her up and balanced while her hands kept a vice grip upon Harry's jacket to keep her own identity a secret. Meanwhile, Harry got hold of Zayn's body and did his best to carry his mate to his black Range Rover that was parked against the curb, Billie opening the door for him and getting into the backseat with the passed out boy as Harry hopped into the driver's seat nimbly.

When they pulled away from the curb, Billie felt her arms go limp as she let go of the jacket that had been wrapped securely around her. Her eyes darted to Zayn's own weakened state and she gently placed his head into her lap, staring at him silently as the vehicle propelled down the road.

“Are you alright, Billie? Do you need anything? You're not hurt are you?” Harry questioned delicately from the front, his eyes looking back at her with concern.

She softly shook her head, not sure what she was feeling at the moment – still in shock over the fight and the rapid descent into paparazzi hell. “I... I... don't know,” she whispered.

Harry felt gutted over what had happened to the poor girl. She was getting entangled in something that wasn't her problem to deal with and it was now that he was beginning to realize that maybe this was too much for him to ask of her. She didn't deserve to be hounded by the relentless tabloids that would – no doubt – make up obscene stories about her just to make a sale, and she didn't deserve to be asked such a personal favor that would take time out of her own schedule. He had been a fool to ask such a request, and once he got them home, he would make it clear that she was free to reject the idea of helping them with Zayn.

Harry's hands steered the wheel in a new direction, but Billie didn't even seem to notice. It wasn't until a few minutes later when Harry was speaking to someone at a Starbucks drive-thru did she realize they were no longer on their way home. After paying the amount required and receiving a large Strawberry Frappucino, he handed the drink back to Billie.

“Sorry, I don't know if you like strawberries or not, but you didn't hear me asking what you liked so I just kind of hoped you might. It'll make you feel better.”

She accepted the drink slowly, almost cautiously, and when she took the first sip, she felt the chill of the drink make its way down into her still riled up body. The more she drank, the more she felt like herself again, the more she felt like nothing chaotic had just happened. As Harry resumed the drive towards their building, Billie paused in the middle of her sipping to whisper, “Thank you.”

Hearing a conversation start up snapped Harry out of his brooding, the young man looking to the back and giving a smile. “It's no problem. I'm just sorry if you don't like strawberries all that much!” He tried to liven the atmosphere with a hearty chuckle.

“Thank you for that too, but...” her voice trailed off and she licked her lips nervously, “thank you for coming to get us.”

“Billie, really, it's fine. You don't have to thank me. I should be thanking you for taking such good care of him when he's like this. Thank you so much for taking care of him.”

“He really helped me back there.”

“What happened? Do you think you could talk about it?”

“I went there for a birthday party, and when I went to the bar, Zayn was there. Some drunken asshole tried to buy me a drink and then he pulled me towards the dance floor when I told him no, and then Zayn cut in and told him to leave me alone.” She answered, soon taking out her phone and sending an apologetic text to Ashley for bailing, telling her she wasn't feeling too well. “After that, they yelled at each other and then started fighting, the manager broke it up, tossed us out, and well, I guess you can imagine what happened next.”

Coincidentally, right as Billie finished her short summary, Harry pulled up to the front of their building, putting on his hazard lights as got out of the Range Rover. He opened up the door to the back and motioned for her to get out. “I can carry Zayn, but if you could just open all the doors for me, that'd be great.”

Billie nodded her head, searching Zayn for his front door key before Harry picked him up and began to carry the slack boy into the building. The elevator ride felt like it took forever to reach the fourth floor, but when it did, Harry could feel his arms screaming at him to put down the drunken oaf.

Billie hurriedly ran ahead and opened the front door, the curly-haired boy hustling in with his cargo and placing him down onto the available sofa, sighing in relief when he was finally able to let his arms rest. “Thank you, Billie, I can't tell you how much I appreciate your help tonight.” He repeated himself, wanting to stress how much he felt indebted to her.

“Harry, stop. It's fine.” She insisted.

“Billie,” he started softly, the gentle tone of his voice causing her to give him her undivided attention. “I do appreciate what you've done. I really can't stop saying it enough.”

She gave a small smile of acknowledgment and replied, “It's not a problem, Harry.”

“Billie, you don't have to keep doing this – watching out for Zayn – anymore. You have your own things to do and it was selfish of me to ask such a huge, personal favor of you. Thank you for everything you've done, though.”

“Harry, if I didn't want to do this in the first place, I wouldn't have.” Her firm tone replied, her brown orbs shining with determination. “At first, I did it for Mrs. Fields, because she just cared for him so much and I wanted to make her feel better knowing that I was keeping an eye out for him. Now, after seeing what he did for me tonight, I know that he's not such a complete asshole, so... I'd like to be here for him to thank him for protecting me from that jackass. I'm not doing this because you ask me to, I'm doing this because I want to.”

There was a silence in which Harry listened to her every word carefully, and a warm sensation spilled out from his chest as he felt that he could truly trust her to take care of one of his best friends. Maybe – just maybe, she might be able to bring him out of his depression and his drinking habits.

Billie James just might be the one to fix him.

“Thank you,” he surprised himself as he choked back a sob, clearing his throat to regain control of his emotions that were beginning to overcome him.

He exchanged a hug with the girl before him, squeezing her tightly and telling her to call if anything happened, and soon stood on the other side of Zayn's flat door, murmuring, “Billie, I think you're the best thing Zayn's ever had.”

When Harry took his leave, Billie began to tend to his wounds, finding an old First Aid kit and doing her best to sanitize and cover them up. Thankfully the cut above his eyebrow was a small one and wouldn't need anything more than a band-aide, and his busted lip had stopped bleeding a while ago, leaving only the beginnings of a scab. When he was fixed up, she placed a damp towel upon his forehead to soothe his heated body, and rested her head upon part of the sofa that wasn't occupied by his body.

As her eyes closed, she took hold of his hand and squeezed it gently, Thank you for being there.